Empty Space
by Jessi D
Summary: Heavy comforts Medic after the death of Archimedes. One-shot. Heavy/Medic. Written for Lady Shockbox.


**Empty Space**

Heavy met Medic's birds before the man himself. Getting off the train for the first time in Teufort, he'd exchanged hand shakes and friendly words with his new comrades. They may have been a little strange or noisy but they seemed eager to get to fighting and that was enough for Heavy. But he had only met seven men and there were nine piles of luggage.

The strangest pile was the one topped by a neat stack of wire-and-wood boxes, which on closer inspection turned out to be cages, each containing one or two white doves. They seemed quite out of place here, especially when a lot of his team mate's things were covered in bright-red warning stickers and reams of densely printed information that made Heavy's head spin. But Heavy liked their gentle cooing and rustling. When he put his hand closer, a few birds chose to investigate, one even giving him an experimental peck.

"Excuse me, Herr."

He had to be the final member of the team, a greying man with a piercing blue gaze. He was quite tall and looking taller with the way he held himself so straight. Another cage was in his arms and the bird it contained was as white and as spotless as his coat.

"Oh, hello," Heavy offered him his broadest grin, "These are your birds?"

"They are," the man-in-white drew himself up defiantly, still far off Heavy's height but the furrow in his brow more than made up for it, "And I would thank you not to bother them after such a long trip."

If this man had been one of his birds, Heavy was sure that his feathers would be all puffed up. Thinking back on it, a long while later, the Russian would think it was in this moment that he fell in love with his Doktor, just a little bit.

"Do not want to bother them. I like your birds," one of them pecked again at Heavy, "This one, I think, likes me."

"Ah, that is Plato," the older man relaxed a little and put the cage he held with the rest, "My apologies, but he does that with everyone. He is quite an affectionate bird."

"Is not problem."

"Plato is not the worse of them. This one," he pointed at another bird - seemingly no different from the rest, "This one is the one that you have to watch. Archimedes rides with me in the car because I simply cannot trust him with the rest of my baggage."

Heavy exchanged a glance with the untrustworthy bird,

"Nyet?"

"No. I leave my work out in my laboratory one night and when I return he had somehow gotten into the inner workings of my Medigun. Days spent repairing the damage," he shook his head, "He is troublesome but at least his mischief appears to be motivated by scientific inquiry," he smiled at Heavy. Looking back, Heavy would think that yes, this was another moment when he fell a little further in love with this man.

"I am Heavy Weapons Guy," he extended his hand, "Am looking forward to working together."

"Oh, yes. Likewise," Heavy's hand completely enveloped the smaller man's hands, "I am the Medic."

* * *

><p>Heavy and Medic fought well together and BLU team learnt to run when the Doktor began to shout <em>Raus!<em> over the crackle of the Übercharge. They fought in Teufort, Steel, Yukon, a dozen other bases. It was in Dustbowl where Heavy finally kissed Medic under the beam of the Medigun and a dozen pairs of beady, black eyes.

In Doublecross there would soon be quite a bit more than kissing going on. The base was relatively peaceful for once, Medic was warm and willing in Heavy's arms and the weekend was about to start in the best possible fashion.

What the Russian did not expect was for Medic's lips to leave his and for the German to suddenly burst out laughing.

"Doktor?"

"No - ach! - no it's not you, Schatz. It's-" Medic dove under the covers and re-surfaced with a bird held tightly in his hands, "He was tickling me. Archimedes! What have I told you before?"

Archimedes wriggled out of Medic's hands to flutter onto the headboard, showing little sign of remorse. His feathers were still stained a light pink, a souvenir of the last time he'd been somewhere forbidden.

"Should not bother Doktor too much, little bird."

"It is fine. They will be wanting to be let out now," he sat up, smoothing down his bed head a little, "I will not be long."

"Nyet," Heavy pulled him down back down into bed, "I will go instead. Doktor will wait for me, yes? Keep thinking nice thoughts," he kissed him firmly on the forehead.

"If that's what you wish," said Medic with a lavish smile, "They shouldn't need food or the like. Just open the window."

"Da," with another kiss, this one to the Doktor's lips, Heavy began lumbering to the bedroom door, Archimedes fluttering to his shoulder.

"Don't keep me waiting, Herr," purred Medic.

Heavy picked up the pace.

The infirmary was given over to the birds at night with the bedroom acting as Medic and Heavy's private space, at least in theory. Archimedes always seemed to get in but he did have a talent for being where he wasn't supposed to be.

The others had stayed though, even the wild doves that fell in with Medic's flock every so often but were rarely tamed. With them up in the rafters was Aristotle, still shy around everyone but the Doktor. Plato had fluttered onto Heavy's other shoulder as soon as he was spotted and Socrates was waddling over too, just in case there was a chance of sandwich crumbs. Hippocrates was quietly dozing on the cradle of the Medigun. And by the window was Zeno - or was it Xeno? - with Xeno - or was it Zeno? - up on the shelf. All present and correct.

Heavy opened the window, shooing birds out into the atypical sunshine. For a little while at least, he could have Doktor all to himself.

* * *

><p>The clay pigeon launcher had begun as an idle technical exercise. A brief attempt had been made to explore the practical applications of a such a device on the battlefield - mostly at the behest of Scout and Soldier, who explained their ideas with plenty of explosion noises. That idea had fallen through once Engineer had demonstrated the lack of aim involved. But the prototype remained and the missiles themselves weren't hard to make - just the kind of monotonous task Engineer like to occupy his hands with while thinking.<p>

So that Saturday, the Engineer, the Scout and the Sniper were out enjoying the rare fine weather, a case of Red Streak and raining bits of clay down onto Doublecross.

"Dead Eye's got you beat, Scout," Engie glanced over at the chalk tally marks they'd been making on the wall. Sniper hadn't missed one yet.

"Well that's just 'cause I ain't locking myself up in my room every day jerkin' it with a rifle all day," that particular comment got a bottle thrown at Scout's head. Luckily it turned out to be Sniper's first miss and hopefully it had been that way on purpose, "Hey, watch it! C'mon, Hardhat. Load 'em up!"

Engie yanked on the lever, taking a long drag from his bottle. Turns out taking his eye off the proceedings was a bad idea, something he only found out when Scout yelped in surprise. White feathers were drifting slowly to the floor and Sniper was strolling out, his gaze sweeping the floor carefully.

"That's gotta be worth more points! I mean, Sniper ain't managed to hit anything other than the targets an' hitting somethin' that's still kicking is a hundred times harder."

"The aim of the game was to hit the targets though," Engie got to his feet with a grunt, "What in God's name did you hit anyway?"

Scout shrugged. Sniper was heading back, long strides eating up the ground, something swinging from his hand,

"Yo, Snipes. What I get?"

It was a white dove, considerably less white than it had been in life. There were three neat holes in it's chest.

"...Aw, fuck."

"Language," said Engie, more by reflex than anything else.

"No, Hardhat. You don't get it. That's one of Doc's birds. He's gonna kill me. He's gonna do... science shit to me!"

"Are you sure?"

"Got the ring on it's leg," said Sniper, pointing out the little red band. Scout moaned, looking rather ill.

"It was an accident, kid. I'm sure Doc will understand."

"He sewed a bird into me!"

"By accident."

"That's what he said."

Sniper shrugged,

"He could just set Heavy on you, mate."

The thought of facing both an angry giant and a maniacal doctor was too much for Scout and before Engineer could grab him, the younger man had darted into the base to hide.

"That's not helping, partner," said the Texan, lifting his googles to give Sniper a full taste of his disapproving stare.

"The little bugger shouldn't had said anything about me rifle."

* * *

><p>Heavy strolled into the infirmary, expecting to be greeted with a record playing and Doktor happily engrossed with one of his experiments. Instead the infirmary was quiet, with only the hum of the Medigun in its cradle to break the silence. The red beam was focused on nothing and Heavy switched it off. It was not like Medic to be wasteful like this.<p>

"Doktor?"

"I am here," came the response after a long pause.

Doktor was sat on their bed, a cardboard box on his lap. His birds were cooing for attention, Aristotle and Hippocrates perched on either shoulder but Medic appeared to be ignoring them. His shoulders were slumped, a far cry from his usual straight-backed posture.

"Something is wrong."

"Ja," Medic looked down at the box again, "...Archimedes is dead."

"What?" Heavy padded into the room, closing the door behind, "How did this happen?"

"He... From what I have been told, he flew into gunfire by mistake. Our own team's fire."

"What me to have... word?"

"Nein, I sent them away," Medic slumped a little further, "...Poor kleine Taube."

Heavy shooed away the remaining birds and sat next to Medic, one massive arm around him. There was an empty space between them but the German did not move to fill it.

"I never thought it would be Archimedes. He was the youngest when I took up this contract and he adapted so well. I thought that if any of them would be safe it would be him but I... I cannot keep even a bird safe."

"Do not think like that, Doktor," Heavy's hand slid up and down Medic's back. The empty space between them felt very wide indeed.

"Yes. Yes, I see your point. It is silly to be like this over an animal," before Heavy could say that he had not meant it like that, the German continued, "I am a silly old man with silly birds."

"I like your birds," Medic finally looked up at him and Heavy touched his cheek gently, "I love you."

"And I you," he slid nearer, the gap between them gone and Heavy held his lover close, where, if he had his say, not even death would touch him.

* * *

><p>They buried Archimedes the next day. Hand-in-hand, Heavy and Medic walked into the pine forest that surrounded Doublecross. It had rained in the night and the scent of pine was in the air. Despite their grim errand Heavy thought that the area was pleasant. Perhaps in happier times he could walk with Medic here.<p>

This was the second grave that Heavy had ever dug for a bird. The first had been as deep as his hands could claw out of the frozen Siberian earth. Archimedes got a proper grave, dug with a borrowed shovel and under a nice tree. Medic had been there to lower the cardboard coffin into the ground and to say his goodbyes and to walk back with Heavy, hand enveloped again in the Russian's.

"You know that prisoners would sometimes tame birds for company?" said Medic as they passed through the chain-link fence and into the base proper, "Or sometimes they would be given them by the officers?"

"Da?"

"Yes," a bird cooed nearby, perhaps one of Medics, "I always wondered if the reasons behind my own flock were the same. But I am glad that I have them all. For however long they stay."

Heavy kissed him on the forehead,

"Am glad that I have Doktor. Even if Doktor was hard to tame."

"How rude, Herr!"

But Medic was smiling as he said it.

* * *

><p>Some weeks later, Heavy entered the infirmary to hear Mozart coming from the record player and Medic humming along quite happily. There was a dove on a little set of scales and Medic was scribbling in the little book that Heavy called the Dove Book.<p>

"Hello, Doktor," he crossed room, stooping to kiss Medic on the top of the head, "Hello, little bird."

"Hallo," the German abandoned his work for a brief moment to return the kiss, "You have come to see the patient?"

"Seems much better," the bird was still a little thin and had a few small bald patches but he was looking far better than when the Russian had rescued him from the gutter.

"He is much healthier. And far tamer than I would have thought," he scooped up the bird in both hands and deposited him on Heavy's shoulder. Only a little coo came from the bird and it settled down with no fuss.

"Think this one will stay?"

"Perhaps. I am inclined to think that he will. I have yet to introduce him to the others though."

"Other birds will play nice or Doktor will be angry with them," Heavy chuckled. The slight quake of his shoulders startled the dove and it gave a reproachful coo, "Sorry, little bird," he gently stroked the soft, new feathers as an apology.

A thoughtful expression crossed Medic's face,

"I will have to name him. But he does not look like a Pythagoras or an Epicurus."

Heavy took a long look at the dove, wondering how Medic decided these things. Although to be fair, neither of those names came to mind when he looked at the new bird,

"Could be an Archimedes?"

"No, no. Far too well-behaved," Medic turned and regarded the dove leaning into Heavy's touch, "He seems to like you."

"Is good bird."

"He has good taste at least," a thoughtful expression crossed Medic's face, "Perhaps I have enough philosophers and inventors in my flock. A change is in order."

"Have another name in mind?"

The German stepped in close, and Heavy put an arm around him,

"...He looks like a Tolstoy. At least to me."

"I like it," he leant in - the newly-named Tolstoy cooing in protest - and covered Medic's mouth with his own, "Thank you, Doktor," said Heavy as they parted.

"It is really Tolstoy that should be thanking me, ja?" he smiled, "But I understand."

They kissed again and the empty space closed between them.


End file.
